Under the Hayloft
by thesixtyfirstpupil
Summary: There is a swing beneath the Gabor's hayloft that everyone adores.Even Hanschen,who never seems to like anything. Oneshot. Requested by MRS.CULLEN1122. REVIEW PLEASE :3


**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters. All work belongs to Wedekind, Sater, and Sheik. **

**My last oneshot before I do Moritz/Martha one. Requested by 1122. Enjoy! **

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There was a swing that Herr Gabor had built under their hayloft that everyone adored. None of the other children had anything as special as a swing. Every now and then they would sneak into the Gabor's barn and spend quite a long time on it. They dove into hay below when they heard someone coming. On a day when nearly all the children had caught chicken pox, Wendla sneaked off by herself, a book under her arm. She sat on the swing and immersed herself in the book. She was so immersed that she didn't hear Melchior enter the barn.

"Wendla?" Her head jerked up and she fell backwards off the swing.

"Melchior! Oh, um…"

"What are you doing here?"  
"I-I…" She quickly picked up her book. "Reading! Yes…reading." He stared at her.

"What are you doing here?" Wendla scrunched up her nose. It was no use lying.

"Swinging. Everyone adores that swing, Melchior. Even Hanschen, who never seems to like anything."

"I knew you were all up to something!" Melchior said "I don't mind really."

"You don't?" he shook his head. Wendla sat on the swing, her fingers curled around the coarse rope.

"It feels like flying doesn't it?" she said, beginning to swing back and forth. Wendla closed her eyes and hung her head back. Her hair brushed the day. Melchior watched her, mesmerized. Wendla suddenly launched herself from the swing. She tumbled into the hay.

"Wendla!" He ran to her side. "Are you all right?" Wendla sat up laughing, her tousled hair full of hay.

"Oh, you should try it Melchior. It's wonderful!" He laughed and sat on the swing. He swung high until he flew through the air. He landed beside her, tumbling head over heels. They lay there for a moment laughing, staring at the ceiling. Wendla's hand brushed his for a short second and she let it linger. She looked at him and smiled. They spent the entire day flying through the barn.

"Melchi? Melchi where are you!" Wendla yelled through the rain. He had disappeared after Moritz's funeral. No one knew where he had run off to.

"Melchi?" She cautiously opened the barn door. Melchior was sitting on the swing, rubbing a flower through his hands.  
"Wendla. I didn't see you." He wiped his nose. Wendla had never seen anyone so broken. It saddened her to look at him.

"Are you all right?" Melchior slowly shook his head.  
"I just don't…._understand_….why he would ever….himself" His voice cracked. She stepped closer to him. That swing hadn't been touched in years. They had all grown apart, ever since that day at the bridge.

"I'm sorry, Melchi" she whispered. He sniffled.

"Do you remember that day? On this swing?" Melchior smiled.

"Yes."

"We could…we could do it again today. Just once." He looked up, smiling through his tears.

"I'd like that." They took turns flying through the air once more.

Melchior opened the barn. So. He remained. The two people who had been most dear to him were gone. He had come home expecting to hold Wendla in his arms again. Instead he had been greeted by a cold, white tombstone. He had been too late. He had almost ended it right then and there but something had stopped him. He didn't know if it was himself or a ghost. But Moritz had been there. And Wendla. He was sure of it. Melchior stepped into the barn, breathing in the familiar smell. He had two remarkable memories locked away here. Above, in the hayloft, he and Wendla had made love. Below, on the swing, they had spent their childhood. It was only a few weeks ago they had flown, just like when they were children. He walked slowly towards the swing. The ropes were frayed and the paint had chipped away. Melchior swung back and forth; imaging was flying beside him like an angel

_They call you as if you knew their longing and whisper through the lonely wind, the long blue shadows falling…._


End file.
